Cally and the Doctor
by Kerr Avonsen
Summary: What if Cally had become the 9th Doctor's companion instead of Rose? AU. A collection of vigniettes exploring this idea. Part of a multi-author series.
1. Turning A Corner

**Turning A Corner**

by Kathryn Andersen

**Series:** Cally and the Doctor  
**Words: **900 or so

This is part of a multi-author alternative universe series in which the 9th Doctor rescued Cally from certain death on Terminal, and she became his companion (instead of Rose). This story covers the same events as described in RedStarRobot's opening "Cally and the Doctor" story, except told from Cally's point of view.

* * *

There was grit on her tongue, smoke in her eyes, and her ears were still ringing. The concrete was rough against her fingers as she felt her way, trying to find the stairs and a way out - if the roof didn't come down first.

A hand clasped hers. "Run!" said a voice, masculine, unknown.

She ran, guided by his pull. Her streaming eyes only made out a blur of dark clothing, but his steps were strong and sure. A dark shape, an opening; double doors. A rumble and roar erupted just behind them as they crossed the threshold. The doors slammed shut against the chaos outside. The air was blessedly clear and still. She blinked.

Yellow light shone on vaguely organic columns growing to a ceiling high above. The centre of the room was dominated by what were probably a set of controls, but looked more like an abstract sculpture soldered together out of scrap metal, with blue-green lights glowing inside. The place felt... alive. This was not Federation technology.

Her rescuer brushed the dust off his jacket. He grinned at her, like a child who has just won a game, as if bombs and explosions were merely fireworks for his delight. "I'm the Doctor, by the way. What's your name?"

He wasn't human. Oh, he looked human enough, with his long nose and sticking-out ears, but he wasn't human, nor Auron either. His aura wasn't the bright blaze of her own people, but neither was it the dead blankness of a human. She could feel his presence; he was there and _alive_. Talking to humans was like living with ghosts.

"Cally. Cally of Auron," she said automatically.

"Nice to meet you, Cally of Auron. Welcome to the Tardis. So, can I drop you off home, then?"

The blithe way he way he said it made her certain that this craft could do as he said - if she had had a home to go to. The hope that Franton carried would not bear full fruit for many years. It didn't count. Auron was gone.

"No," she said. "My home no longer exists, and my people are dead."

He stilled, hands dropping away from the controls. "Oh," he said.

His aura thrummed with pain, like a tuning fork to her own. Pain and loss. Of people? Of home? Of dear ones? She did not know. But loss all the same, short and sharp.

But he did not indulge it. Instead, from a well of discipline, he pulled a smile. "Well, no worries, then," he said to her. "You can come with me."

"I should return to my friends," she said, not even considering his offer. The others still lived, she knew that. They were all she had left, she couldn't abandon them. She turned to the door, and it opened silently in front of her. She stepped out into the underground complex. The air was still full of smoke and grit and the footing was unstable. She could feel tremors beneath her feet, either aftershocks or more bombs. She took a few careful steps forward.

"Cally," the Doctor called behind her.

She stopped, and twisted around. He was standing in the doorway of his craft, the Tardis.

"What do they give you worth living for?" he asked.

The question gave her pause. What, indeed? Why had she joined with them in the first place? Because of Blake, and his cause. "They gave me something worth dying for," Cally said. _Blake_ had. But Blake was gone. According to Servalan, Blake was dead. Without Blake, the cause was dead. "Once," she added. The last year without Blake told her what the future with the others would hold: a bare scrabble for survival. Was that living?

"Look around you," he said, waving his hand at the destruction around them. "This is Terminal. End of the line." His eyes bored into her. "Time to get off this train; venture out, somewhere new." He smiled, again that grin of a child and his winning games. "You want danger, I've got it. Something to fight for, yeah, got that, too. There's so much to set right."

_How does he know?_ she wondered. _How does he know what I hope for?_

His eyes softened, and his voice also. "And out there, deep in space, there's a nebula glowing in the dark of space where you can land the Tardis right in the center, just right, and ride the currents while it churns. The stuff stars are made of, all around you, creating something beautiful in the middle of the blackness."

She could almost see it.

"There's _something_, Cally, when it's all gone... you and me, yeah? We'll run a thousand miles an hour, raging against the dying of the light. We'll blow things up. We might well die in the process. It'll be a whole lot of fun."

Again, with the grin. And more, a passion for _life_, instead of mere existance.

"And then we'll go watch something begin. After so many endings."

She nodded slowly. "Yes," she said. "I'll come with you."

He smiled gently, and stepped back inside. She stepped through the dark blue doors.

Something brushed against her mind, then, something Other, something alien. It wasn't the Doctor. This was something... it reminded her faintly of Zen, only deeper, wider, and far, far older. The ship. The Tardis. It really _was_ alive.

And it welcomed her.

It was like coming home.

**~finis~**


	2. The Other Tenth Time

**The Other Tenth Time**

by Kathryn Andersen

**Words:** 175  
For b7friday: a sort of sequel to redstarrobot's untitled Doctor Who/Blake's 7 crossover.  
Summary: Cally and the Doctor have a quiet moment. Written in 2005.

This is part of a multi-author alternative universe series in which the 9th Doctor rescued Cally from certain death on Terminal, and she became his companion (instead of Rose).

* * *

Cally sat cross-legged on the grass, meditating.

"There." The Doctor draped the length of green stems and white flowers over the back of Cally's neck.

She opened her eyes and examined the greenery trailing down by her shoulder. "What's this?"

"A daisy-chain," the Doctor said. "You're supposed to link the ends, but I never learned how."

"What is it for?"

"It's for fun!" he said, with a grin.

"But the flowers will wilt."

"Have you never picked flowers, Cally of Auron?"

She shook her head.

He leaned back, resting on his elbows. "Flowers are ephemeral, short-lived. They're designed for the delectation of bees. But that doesn't mean that we shouldn't enjoy them. In fact, we should enjoy them _more_, because they are so soon gone. They're like sunsets that way."

"But why do we have to pick them in order to enjoy them?"

"Because you can't make daisy-chains unless you pick them." He stood up and pulled her to her feet. "Let's go have some Devonshire Tea. Maybe there's a monster lurking in the cafe."

**~finis~**


	3. Dress Sense

**Dress Sense**

by Kathryn Andersen

**Words:**200  
**Summary:** another Cally & The Doctor vigniette. Cally and the Doctor disagree about clothes.  
Written in 2005.

* * *

"Where are we?" Cally asked as the sounds of rematerialization faded away.

"17th-Century Florence."

"Primitive Earth," Cally said. "Again."

"I like the Earth!" the Doctor protested.

"Or the TARDIS does," she said with a small smile.

The Doctor glanced at her grey and black tunic and trousers. "You're going to go out there dressed in _that_?" he scoffed.

"What's wrong with it?"

"It doesn't fit the time-period. You'd be lynched. Or put in the stocks."

"I would? I had best be prepared, then."

Ten minutes later, she stepped through the interior door almost entirely covered with a 23rd-century stealth suit. She looked like a ghost with a solid head. The Doctor's hearts clenched, thinking of how close she'd come to becoming a ghost the day they'd met. What a loss that would have been.

"No," he snapped. She remained unruffled, and he gave her a lopsided grin. "We don't want to frighten the natives," he said. "Yet."

Cally shrugged and left. She returned wearing black jeans, dark grey shirt, and a leather jacket. The Doctor realized that trying to get her to wear a dress was a lost cause.

"Well, don't blame me if they take you for a Castrati."


End file.
